The Romans created Mercedonius to manipulate the lunar calendar to fit the solar seasons. Because a lunar year has fewer days than a solar year, the concept falls behind reality by about 11 days each annum. If not corrected, this adds up quickly—in 8 years, the calendar can be off by a whole season.

So they inserted the short month of Mercedonius between February 23 and February 24 every two years. Mercedonius lasted 27 or 28 days—so February 24 became Mercedonius 1st, and at some point we would find ourselves in March. (If you want to read more about the origins of the Roman Mercedonius and/or how it grew into a personal practice, you can read my blogs from previous years here and here.)

A month to catch the year up to my season.

For the past three years, I have practiced my own Mercedonius around my birthday to catch my own year up to my season. Beginning on May Day (May 1) and ending on my birthday (May 26), I write about words that keep repeating, songs that get stuck in my head, and events that come out of no where and then show up again.

About two weeks out from the start of Mercedonius, I start looking for its theme.

This year, I saw magic.

I finally read “Big Magic” by Elizabeth Gilbert which has been on my list for a year. I wrote a blog about the magic of not over scheduling one’s self and wrote about it on my other website here. The sigil above came to me during a meditation about the coming year. It represents (me?) holding the two handles of the amphora (the metaphor) and looking inside.

Another inspiration for my Mercedonius is Bonnie Smith Whitehouse’s “Seasons of Wonder”, a book I wish I had written about the magical intersections of God, language, and the calendar, which just fell into my lap.

Then I found a hawk’s feather. And I encountered ChatGPT.

ChatGPT’s not magic, it’s science (and cheating)!

Magic only feels like cheating if you pretend it’s not magic.

We’ve all heard talk of, and maybe even used, this newly available or just newly common tool of ChatGPT. Honestly, I had not given it much thought, but it the last week, everyone mentioned it to me. I even found myself having a one-sided but insightful conversation with my dog about it.

So, I asked ChatGPT, “How do I leave room for magic in May?” And it told me a summary of whatever it could find on the Internet: be spontaneous, creative, and grateful. Spend time in nature. Keep in open mind.

While this is not terribly interesting writing—in fact, I’ve encountered and casually dismissed all of these ideas before—it does do one thing worth calling magic: it invokes action. All of ChatGPT’s suggestions are things one must do. Even A.I. knows that magic requires more effort than just waiting around for divine Door Dash to deliver dreams.

So I asked myself, “How do I leave room for magic in May?” And I told me that I must release the limits of a life I can imagine in order to receive the limitless and unimaginable designs of the universe. And write and post blogs. Daily.

And that, my friends, will be magic.